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Elena Atima
Description A sweeping flare of jewel-toned skirts and the faintest tapping of tiny heels mingles with the sweet scent of night-blooming jasmine when the Dona enters a room. Those who have never before met her are often struck by her diminutive stature; those who know her look immediately to her eyes to gauge her mood before making a sound. Thinly boned, with high cheekbones and large, narrow eyes, the Dona blends her Egyptian and Italian blood into a flawless profile. A narrow chin, arching brows and a slim nose all add to the portrait of blue-blooded perfection, and her full lips often hold a smirk at their corners. If her cheeks are a bit hollow and the expression in her midnight blue eyes is too calculating for the sort of beauty that lingers in the mind, her exceptional abilities and overwhelming willpower certainly make up for it. Silken hair falls to her knees when unbound- a rare occurrance indeed- and gleams like polished obsidian, glowing blue where the light hits the waves. More often, her hair is bound up in a caul, woven into an intricate coiffure, or braided into such a sleek, heavy mass that it seems astonishing the tiny woman could hold her head forward against such weight. The heavy gowns undoubtably assist her in keeping her balance. Having never quite moved past the Renaissance years in her gowns, the Dona's skirts sweep the floors, trailing a discreet distance in her path, and her sleeves contain more elaborate embroidery than half the tapestries in Christendom. Silk, satin, samite, frail lace and heavy gold embroidery form her wardrobe, cut and sewn by women who have seen no light of day since the mid 1600s. Jewels enhance her gowns, her cauls, her slippers and her own moon-pale flesh, glowing with the light of age. Distainful of modern fashions, the Dona continues to wear her antiquated gowns, updating only as she sees fit. Sapphire, cerulean, ruby, aubergine, jet-black, ice white and every other variety of rich colour create her gowns- always in a solid, rich shade, always highlighted with delicate, elaborate embroidery. With centuries to collect adornments, it's no surprise that the Dona has a vast collection of jewels with which to adorn herself. Only a few have held on to make repeat appearances. Justinicus's ring bearing the family crest- a heavy gold block incised with the elaborate coat of arms- has been used numerous times to break an insolent underling's face. A thin gold fillet from the 13th Century appears surprisingly often to gleam from the depths of her dark hair, inset with minute sapphires to enhance the blue glimmers light teases out of her tresses. No wedding band has ever lasted beyond the husband, and her left hand is defiantly bare. Personality If there is one defining trait of the Lasombra, it is her indomitable will. Life has not been kind to the Dona, nor has it been gentle, and she has learned to return the world's graces with a flashing glare of her own. Insanity lies just beneath the gleam of sharp intellect in her midnight-blue eyes, but it's difficult to decipher that insanity, veiled as it is by her unfaltering sense of propriety. Old World etiquette is the hallmark of her approach to new acquaintances, and those who encounter her briefly often remark on how graciously ladylike the tiny Lasombra is. Those, of course, are not her enemies, to whom she offers implacable hatred. Hers is a long memory, and one thing Elena does not do is "forgive and forget." Once slighted, she will go to outrageous lengths to even the score, and then a step further to balance it in her favour. No one holds the upper hand on her for long. Courtliness flows in her gestures, speech and mannerisms, but when her ferocious temper snaps, anyone nearby is likely to bear the brunt of it. Unable to admit when she's in the wrong, Elena twists events in her mind to lay the blame at someone else's feet, and then punishes them heartlessly for failing her. A perfectionist in every interpretation of the word, she cannot tolerate the concept of losing. Any setback is, to her mind, temporary, or all "part of the plan." Indeed, the Lasombra is the poster child for the most extreme OCD diagnosis possible. Every aspect of her night is planned, every plot has every possibility documented, and she takes ANY chance into account when deciding what she is going to do. Spontaneous is not in her vocabulary. While many of her clan take the approach of "loyalty to family," Elena's choice is "loyalty to me." A selfless act, from her, can be counted on to have an ulterior motive, and one that will benefit her immensely. Pre-Game History Born to an ambitious Roman legionary and his Egyptian mistress, Elena was raised through the tumultuous times to be an asset to her family. Her father, Justinicus, was a domineering man with great ambitions and it was those ambitions that brought him through the ranks to the level of praefectus castrorum. He saw potential in the disarray of the Italian provinces, and had made allies with several Roman consuls, arranging favours here and there, in order to gain considerable holdings and ensure they would remain his. In Elena, he saw chances for advancement through marriage, and his aim was to raise her as an ideal wife. To that end, Elena was taught to manage households, hold conversations and serve men in every possible way. Elena was rebellious from the moment she was born, and despised her father's iron-fisted rule. To thwart him at every turn was her delight, and it was for that reason that she learned swordplay from a Roman legionary, witchcraft from a local woman and seduction from her own extensive experience. By the time she was fifteen, she had ensured that her father's delight in a pure, well-bred daughter was utterly worthless. It was in clashing with Justinicus's temper that Elena honed her unbreakable will and found ways to get around his demands. She reached the proper age to wed, and her father’s machinations were brought to nothing when it was discovered she had come to the marriage bed already defiled. The man, infuriated, refused to return her dowry, and spread the knowledge throughout their province. Justinicus’s rage was white-hot, and even as he had his daughter beaten daily, he sought another husband from further afield. It took two years for the memory of Elena’s coup to fade from courtly memory, and if Justinicus ever wondered why his master of arms feared him so greatly, it never occurred to him that his daughter would have had herself deliberately deflowered simply to destroy an alliance that had taken him six months to arrange. Believing she had succumbed to girlish passion, he put all of his efforts into ensuring it would not happen again. The last thing he needed was rumours of another dalliance while he was dickering with the powerful Cavalcanti family to wed off his unsatisfactory daughter. Elena’s escape from the convent, no matter how enraging, was dealt with by Justincus’s financial power, and it was with icy fury that she said her marriage vows to Marco Cavalcanti at the near unmarriageable age of nineteen. As a wife, Elena was uncontrollable. She suffered greatly from her defiance, but even her husband's cruel mother could not force her into utter compliance. It was in the Cavalcanti household that Elena learned subtlety. In delicate manipulation, she was better able to suit the household to her liking, and it was through puppetry that she gained all she wished from her weak-willed husband. The first lesson anyone should have learned about Elena was to never, ever consider her less than dangerous. Her husband made such a mistake, and it was his last. She smiled when the poison left him lifeless at her feet, and looked forward to the freedom that his widow would claim for herself. To Elena’s eternal fury, Justincus would not let his daughter go so simply. She was, after all, twenty-three and could still be married off to another powerful family with the proper motivation. Exerting his influence, he brought his daughter back within his walls, and for a year, Elena endured his brutal punishments for ending the alliance he had so carefully created before he was ready. It was with grave warnings against angering him again that he left her for a routine visit to Rome. She would, he assured her, be wed within the month and if her husband died before Justinicus thought it proper, it would be Elena who would suffer for the act. She used the fortnight of her father’s absence as best she could, gathering what gold was available and preparing to escape to Portugal. Even the far-seeing Elena could not have guessed what would return home when Justinicus’s arrival was declared a week before the expected date. The Justinicus who had left had been sun-browned and viciously humourless. The Justinicus who greeted his daughter in their garden was… pale and smiling. His eyes were oddly compelling, and he seemed pleased when she broke his gaze and ignored his command to attend him. Elena fled to her chambers and prepared to leave immediately, bribing a maid to open the proper doors. Her horse had already been prepared by a stable boy loyal to his adored lady, and when midnight came, the Castilian beauty was already well on her way to the orchard to carry out her escape. She did not, however, plan for what she found: Justinicus standing in the doorway to the garden, her maid dangling from one hand, leaking blood from the gash in her throat. With a gentle smile, the nobleman took his daughter into the library and explained what their lives would be like now. He had been turned, Embraced by one of the shadowy clan that ruled most of Italy, and now held more power than he could ever have dreamt of alive. Elena, of course, was to be his pawn. It would be she who would garner the alliances he would bring to his clan, and it was she who would be the proper offering to cement bargains that would benefit the Lasombra as a whole. As she watched her father’s bloody fangs flash in a laughing smile, Elena made her decision and calmly refused all that he had ‘offered.’ To face Justinicus’s fury as a mortal was test enough. To face the rage of the undead was something else entirely, and it was only through years of pitting herself against all others that Elena withstood his threats. Her plans were made, and as Justinicus’s shadows twisted her body, broke her bones and bruised her flesh, she spat out the blood collecting in her mouth and made her demand. She would do his bidding, yes, but not as a mortal. If he wished her compliance in building his empire, he would grant her the same power that he now held. If she was going to be his pawn, she would be a queen amongst mortals. Logic was logic, and it was the utter possibilities that made Justinicus drop her damaged form and consider. It was too true that she was quite able to do precisely what he wished, and if she were forced to do so without this small license, it was likely she would deliberately fail at whatever task he set her. It was personal consideration, not fatherly love, that spurred Justinicus to pick his daughter up and drain her lifeblood. It was lust for power that fed his vitae to her, and it was only the knowledge of what she could become that made him call another maid to the room for Elena’s first feeding. Months passed as hours while Elena learned the intricacies of Cainite society. Again and again she clashed against her father and sire’s will, only to fine-tune her approach as she lay bleeding on the floor, broken by his shadows. More than anything, Elena wished to kill him. To slay the man who had given her both life and unlife, and laugh over the husk of his body. It was to that end that she applied herself, learning the deadly arts of shadow manipulation and dominance with profound dedication. Almost as an afterthought, she honed her courtly skills of conversation, seduction and manipulation. Justinicus, knowing full well what drove her, found every excuse to enrage her, knowing that it would only lead to improving his final product. Venice was the first test of her skills, and as Elena moved through mortal and Cainite society alike, she found that it was utterly simple to bind people to her will. It hardly took any use of her supernatural abilities; the truth was that most individuals, be they alive or undead, were simply too stupid, too clumsy or too trusting to realize what lovely serpent commiserated with their unhappiness and listened to their secrets. The ruling Cainite of the city found his death at Elena’s skillful hands, and although she did not commit the deed herself, Justinicus was as proud of her manipulation as he would have been if she had wielded the blade. Mantua was a small Italian province, but one with considerable wealth, and it was a simple matter to lure the funds away from the eager Ventrue who held them. Justinicus prepared for her arrival in Rome even as he avoided the assassination attempt she had arranged with the Ventrue’s monies. She entered Rome despondent at her failure, and all the more resolved to arrange her sire’s death. It was, honestly, a surprise when she realized that she enjoyed the tasks he set her to. It was honest fun to manipulate the men about her, to listen to their pathetic attempts to gain her favour and to watch them despair when she ignored their poetry, their music, and their gifts. Justinicus had what he had always wanted: a daughter who would work in concert with him, using her skills as he could not in order to assure their family and their clan would always come out the victor. Years, decades, centuries passed as Elena rose to greater prominence in the southern lands. Amongst the budding members of what would become the Sabbat, she was nightshade: beautiful and poisonous, utterly capable and thoroughly dangerous. Rule came easily to her, and her ruthless nature found its’ niche in command of the Sabbat. Given what positions Justinicus could arrange for her, and later, that she earned for herself, Elena grew in experience. Directing attack, manipulating information, using those around her and dancing through the deadly Lasombra courts became second nature to her, and she reveled in the power that she, a woman, had managed to obtain. Although she worked with her father to achieve his goals, it didn’t mean that Elena had ever let go of her desire to be his death. With her sire, she played a game of lethal cat and mouse throughout the civilized world. He came to Rome shortly before it was sacked; she was nearly slaughtered by the Byzantine armies. He was abandoned by his allies in the Holy Lands; she was left for the sunlight in the wet woods of Germany. Assassins by the hundreds met their end at the hands of either Elena or her father, and each one slain was a coup counted against the other. Cities rose and fell, emperors and kings were crowned and deposed, faith grew and wavered, disease ravaged the mortal populace and still the pair played deadly chess with each other. It was, in fact, her persistence which won her the attention of Les Amies Noir. An outstanding example of what the Italian Lasombra prized, Elena was introduced, tested and inducted before she had reached six hundred years of age. Justinicus’s pride in his daughter’s accomplishment, at her winning the right to be called ’Dona’ by all, was demonstrated by the Assamite he contracted to kill her. He was utterly delighted when the Assamite’s head was found in his bedchamber, with Elena’s characteristic embroidery decorating the torn flaps of skin dangling from its’ neck stump. Not long after, Justinicus arranged Elena’s marriage to Domenico de’ Medici and smiled at his daughter when she glared at him on her wedding eve. Now with the goals of Les Amies to be considered, Elena had even more to arrange on her nightly schedule. She did it all deftly, with the sure touch of one who knows victory comes to those who never doubt it is theirs. As the Sabbat grew and organized itself, she joined her father in spreading the Sabbat’s philosophy, inducting new members and cementing the Sabbat as a force to be reckoned with amongst Cainite society. The Camarilla should have been her natural choice, as her father had sided with the Sabbat, but Elena found their adherence to mortal virtues utter idiocy. She would slay her father soon enough, and then the Sabbat would be her comfortable home. Justinicus’s patience with Elena’s hatred had been wearing thin for a century or so when she had his favourite mistress slain, and the body given to a Romanian fiend to turn into a gown for her use. It was the last insulting gesture, and while Elena was busy moving between Rome and Venice, attending to her webs of intrigue, he sought a way to rid himself of what he had so carefully and successfully created. Rumours of a city called Nebari reached his ears, and with interest he noted the high mortality rate of the Sabbat members within. More information came to him, and when he learned of certain characteristics of the city- or where it had once been; apparently it had sunk and been built over- he knew precisely what needed to be done. It was on a pretense of solidifying the Sabbat’s power in the north that he called his daughter to him, and when she protested his chosen plan, he suggested she send as emissary the most ineffective of her current proteges, a Venetian woman Embraced on a whim by the name of Lodovica Mocenigo. She, he knew, was too preoccupied with her own belief in her ‘sins’ to be truly helpful, and if the rumours he had heard of the island she would visit was true, no warning would reach Elena in time. Had Elena been of her full mental state at the time of his most recent plot, it is very unlikely that Justinicus would have succeeded. However, for the last five years, there had been a distraction from her nightly plots that kept her from being fully aware of her father’s actions. In the French court, she had met a beautiful Englishwoman named Catherine Swynfort. This woman had, to the utter shock of all who knew Elena, made friends with the lethal Lasombra, and the pair had been inseparable for months. Justinicus, not wishing Elena to be so easily caught by foolish emotion, arranged to have the woman sent back to England and the courts there. She lasted only six months before returning to Elena, pregnant by the rape of an English lord. Elena had taken a month away from the tangle of plots in Italy and visited England herself. The lord took a week to die, and Elena bore his family jewels back to Catherine in a gem-studded box. Although Elena did all she could to ensure her friend- and lover, it must be said- would survive the pregnancy and birth, Catherine was too delicate, and the birth of twins killed her. The dying wish of the Englishwoman had been for Elena to raise her children, whom she had wished to keep despite their paternity, and Elena, for all her faults, never broke her word. She named the twins Gabriel and Angelica and secured them away from her father’s assassins in a German stronghold on the Rhine. They were the cause of some frequent absences from the Italian courts, and while Elena had sacrificed no power by doing so, Justinicus was annoyed that his daughter would allow herself such idiocy as caring for mortal children. It was with great pleasure that he looked forward to Elena’s departure, and not a fortnight after Lodovica had left for the north, he manufactured a missive from the Venetian bidding her mistress come, for the situation was in dire need of her. Furious that her protégé could not handle matters, Elena prepared for a speedy departure. Justinicus watched her anger with delight, and assisted her in whatever matters needed handling before her absence. Elena expected it would be extended, perhaps even a whole year, and arranged for the twins to be cared for in the Far East, away from her father’s power. A year had never mattered to her before, but in the strange twists of fate, she had come to care for the children and lamented the time that would pass before she saw them again. Only when word came that Angelica and Gabriel were well out of her father’s reach did Elena take to the road, furious that Lodovica had done so poorly in finding the Tzimisce she had commanded her to serve. Justinicus watched her go, and waved his hand out the window to her before commanding his assassins to find the children and slay them. Elena had planned well, and Justinicus’s attempt to kill those she had taken under her protection failed miserably. It was nothing less than she would have expected, but Elena could not focus on that as she traveled to the barbaric north. All the history she had been able to gather on the city of Nebari was in her possession, and she studied it relentlessly as she traveled. It would, of course, be necessary to set up a proper Sabbat stronghold where Justinicus had sent her, and while she planned how it would need to be run, she made a list of possible punishments for Lodovica. The fool should have taken care of this, or at the very least, found the Tzimisce that the Nebari reports had shown to be the strongest Sabbat member still living in the area. Her informants were very, very good, and Elena knew quite a bit about the Cainite history of Nebari by the time she arrived at the port. She boarded the ship that would carry her to the island Lodovica waited upon with a light heart. If the Fiend was still alive, this would be short work and she would be able to return to Italy soon. …if only she had known that her informants were Justinicus’s also… Pertinent Connections * Angelica Justinicus Tenebron - * Savannah Keita Burnett - The Gangrel is an unlikely ally for the calculating Lasombra. An ally she is, however, and Elena weathers the tempermental woman's outbursts and soothes her with tasks suitable for her nature. It helps to have all sorts, after all. Estates -an Austrian castle, south of Vienna, in the Hohe Tavern Mountains (112 rooms) -an English manor north of London (38 rooms) -a sprawling manor northeast of Rome (61 rooms) -a French chateau west of Versailles (134 rooms) -the ancestral home of Justinicus, south of Pamplona (52 rooms) -a hidden stronghold east of Khandyga, Siberia (21 rooms) -a Victorian brownstone in Brandenburg, Virginia (12 rooms) -a summer home in Cairo, Egypt (18 rooms) -Dalnaglar Castle, Perthshire, Scotland (42 rooms) -Burg Rheinstein located above Trechtingshausen on the Rhine River in Germany (47 rooms) -Castelo de Porto de Mos, Portugal (39 rooms) -a rustic 'retreat' north of Edmonton, Alberta, Canada (47 rooms) -a vineyard and home on Crete, south of Greece (10 rooms) -small home south of Marrakech, Morocco (27 rooms) -isolated manor 321 miles north of Ankara, Turkey (103 rooms) -a 14th Century castle south of the Romania-Moldova border (32 rooms) -three adjoining apartments, Carlyle Hotel, New York City, New York, USA (20 rooms) -Chateau Hoekwe in Belgium (50 rooms) -Stratford Castle, South Africa, Camelot Estate (109 rooms) -Eagle Lake Castle, Eagle Lake, California, USA (85 rooms) -a chateau on the English Channel (230 rooms) -Casa Hacianda Sombra- outside of Nazca, Peru, South America (64 rooms) -a hacianda on the Costa Maya (19 rooms) -an ancient palace on the Isle of Comino, part of Malta (44 rooms) Currently... 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